“God, yes.”
Like I said.Cock drunk.
“You want me to fuck you, baby?”
“Yes. Fuck, yes.”
“Say you’re mine.”
Another slow drag of his cock over my soaked slit nearly breaks me. I cling to the headboard, lifting my ass higher, silently begging him to fill me up.
“Say you’re mine, little thief, and I’ll let you have my cum.”
My head shakes in the next second. What can I say? I’m insanely stubborn, and this game is addictive, even when it drives me crazy.
“Oh well…” Kane drags his fingers through my hair, fisting a handful. “I’ll just have to prove that you’re mine.”
“How are you gonna do that?”
I can practically feel his evil grin when he leans in and presses his lips to my ear. “Don’t come. If you come on my cock, you admit that you’re mine.
“That’s not fair.” My heart pounds almost as hard as my tortured, swollen clit. I roll my hips in time with his, fucking myself on his cock. “You’re playing dirty.”
“Welcome to my world, beautiful.”
We move like lapping waves, our sweat-slicked bodies grinding together, breathless panting broken by the occasional creak of his headboard.
“Are you mine?” he asks, nipping at my damp neck.
“No.”
“Is that why you’re creaming on my dick, little rabbit?”
“I’m not.”
God, why do his big hands feel so good on my body? Why does the glide of his rigid cock as it parts my nether lips make me shiver? Why do I love his touch so much? His smell?
“You’re fucking perfect, Jessica.” Awe roughens his voice as he cups my breasts beneath my hoodie. “I’m never letting you go.”
“Kane,” I whimper, hovering right on the edge. The world narrows to the place where his slick hardness rubs my sensitive clit. The bulbous crown strokes again and again. I gasp and press back, needy, right on the brink.
He reaches down and lines himself up with my slick heat. Ecstasy crashes through me at the fiery stretch when he pressesinside. Kane’s fingers dig into my hips as he fucks me through my orgasm, spilling his heat down my thighs. A strained sound rumbles in his throat, dark and heavy.
Just when I think I might pass out, he drives into me harder, hips snapping sharp and punishing. One orgasm rolls into another, and I come again, my body milking him in rippling waves that darken my vision.
By the time the release ebbs away, I’m Jell-O in Kane’s arms, trembling.
He pulls back the quilt and lays me down on the silk sheets. The spicy notes of his cologne surround me, and I breathe them deep into my lungs. His scent is steady and grounding, something that shouldn’t feel safe, but does.
Over the next few minutes, I must drift off, because I stir when Kane presses a damp cloth to my tender core. It’s warm and soothing after our rough sex, and I sigh in relief. I already know I’ll be sore in the morning, but I don’t regret a thing. I’d do it all over again. In fact, I hope we will.
In the dim light, Kane concentrates as he wipes me clean. The softness in his eyes steals my breath, but I don’t want to break the moment, so I stay silent, even as my heart kicks hard behind my ribs.
“When was the last time someone looked after you?” he asks, the question closing a tight fist around my heart.
“I don’t remember.” My voice is low. For a moment I think he doesn’t hear me, but then he swipes the cloth over my mound again, slow and gentle, and my eyes burn.
“Stay here tonight.” His voice turns raspy, fragile, as he keeps his focus on my swollen sex. “Let me look after you.”
